James stood before his bedroom mirror, adjusting the tiepin for the fourth time. The platinum Sharp logo caught the morning light, sending a small reflection dancing across his wall. He'd chosen his charcoal Tom Ford suit—the most expensive item in his wardrobe, typically reserved for client presentations to Fortune 500 companies. Today seemed to warrant the extra touch of gravitas.
His fingers lingered on the tiepin. According to office lore, only five existed in the entire company: one for Victoria herself, one for each of the two major executives (the two whom had since departed and a board member), and now, inexplicably, one for him. The weight of the platinum against his tie felt like more than just metal—it was tangible proof of Victoria's trust, despite her insistence that the promotion was merely strategic.
The subway ride to the office was a blur of rehearsed responses to the congratulations he anticipated. James had spent much of the night reviewing the details of his new position, trying to focus on the professional aspects rather than Victoria's uncharacteristically distant behavior. Chief Strategic Officer. The title still didn't feel real.
When he emerged from the station and approached the gleaming Sharp Innovations building, James took a steadying breath. Something told him this day would fundamentally alter his professional trajectory—and possibly his complicated relationship with Victoria.
The security guard looked up as James badged through the turnstile. "Morning, Mr. Mitchell." His eyes flickered to the tiepin, and his demeanor subtly shifted. "Or should I say, Mr. CSO? Congratulations, sir."
News traveled fast. "Thank you, Frank. And James is still fine."
"Not according to the updated security protocols I received this morning," Frank replied with a grin. "You've got new clearances and everything."
James hadn't considered the practical implications of his promotion beyond his direct responsibilities. "Already? That was quick."
"Ms. Sharp sent the directive last night at 9:47 PM. Said it was to be implemented immediately." Frank raised an eyebrow significantly. "Not typical protocol for promotions, but then again, nothing about Ms. Sharp is typical."
James absorbed this information as he headed for the elevator. Victoria had sent security clearance updates barely three hours after informing him of his promotion—and on a weeknight when she typically disconnected from work correspondence. The contradiction between her emotionally distant delivery of the news and her immediate practical facilitation of his new role was puzzling.
The elevator doors opened to a transformed landscape. Where his desk had been for years—positioned strategically within Victoria's line of sight whenever she emerged from her office—now sat a young woman James recognized from the marketing department. She looked up nervously as he approached.
"Mr. Mitchell! Good morning." She stood, smoothing her skirt. "I'm Amara Jeggins. Ms. Sharp reassigned me as her new executive assistant."
"Hello, Amara." James offered a reassuring smile, noting her tension. "How's the first day going?"
"It's only been forty-three minutes, but I've already had to redo the morning briefing twice." She whispered this, glancing anxiously toward Victoria's closed door.
James nodded sympathetically, remembering his own early days. "Try bullet points instead of paragraphs for the competitive analysis section. And her coffee—"
"Black with exactly half a teaspoon of raw sugar, heated to exactly 165 degrees and stirred fourteen times," Amara finished. "Already on her desk."
"You'll do fine." James started to move toward what had been Victoria's conference room, then realized he didn't actually know where he was supposed to go.
Amara seemed to read his mind. "Your new office is through there," she said, gesturing to a door at the end of the executive suite hallway. "Corner office, adjacent to Ms. Sharp's. Your belongings were moved last night."
James thanked her and made his way through the open-plan office area. As he passed by the creative department, Marcus stepped away from his desk with a broad smile.
"James! There he is—the man of the hour!" Marcus extended his hand for an enthusiastic shake.
"Thanks, Marcus. Still trying to wrap my head around it all."
Marcus lowered his voice, his expression turning mischievous. "I'm glad you stayed even when things weren't looking up for you. But I have to ask—how did you manage to stay so focused all these years? Working that closely with Ms. Sharp every day?" He gave an appreciative whistle. "That face, that body... you'd have to be some kind of saint."
James felt a flush creeping up his neck. "It's called professionalism, Marcus."
"Well, if I didn't know both of you so well, I'd honestly assume you two were dating," Marcus continued, oblivious to James's discomfort.
James maintained his composed expression, though inwardly he was far from saintly. He'd spent countless nights imagining what it would be like to be more than Victoria's right hand at work—to be the man in her life beyond these walls. His feelings had long ago transcended professional admiration, though he'd become adept at burying them beneath layers of dutiful efficiency.
"The promotion is based on merit, Marcus. Nothing more," James said firmly.
Before Marcus could respond, Naomi from Branding approached, deliberately positioning herself between them. "James! The announcement just hit my inbox. We're absolutely thrilled." She embraced him briefly. "No one deserves this more."
Marcus retreated with a knowing smile as other colleagues began gravitating toward them. Within minutes, James found himself surrounded by well-wishers, some genuinely enthusiastic, others clearly reassessing his position in the corporate hierarchy.
"The brilliant works from you have always shown exceptional foresight," Daniel from Strategy said, offering a firm handshake. "Looking forward to seeing what you accomplish in this new role."
Natalie Rivera from Legal nodded appreciatively. "Your brilliant work with the Next technology has positioned us years ahead of our competitors. Even though Victoria wouldn't let you intervene during last month's crisis, your strategic framework was what ultimately guided us through."
"It was a team effort," James deflected, though the acknowledgment warmed him.
The impromptu gathering dispersed as Victoria's office door opened. James remained where he was, unsure of the appropriate protocol in this new dynamic.
Victoria emerged, tablet in hand, immaculately dressed in a tailored navy suit. Her eyes scanned the office with their typical penetrating assessment before landing on James. For an instant—so brief he might have imagined it—her gaze dropped to the tiepin at his throat.
Something imperceptible shifted in her expression. Not a smile, not even close, but a softening around the eyes, a slight release of tension in her jaw. Then it was gone, replaced by her usual mask of professional detachment.
"Morning briefing in five minutes," she announced to no one in particular, though her eyes remained on James. "Conference room B."
She turned without waiting for acknowledgment, a queen assuming her commands would be obeyed. Amara scrambled to gather materials, looking momentarily panicked.
"Third drawer on the right," James murmured as he passed her desk. "Extra copies of everything, already collated."
Gratitude flooded her face. "Thank you."